The Deeper Satisfactions That Come Out Of Struggle
by firebreather74
Summary: A worrisome illness arises leading to new friends, new struggles, new outlooks on events and also no-one saying what is actually going on. This isn't an AU or canon, kind of an extra layer to the canon portrayed from episode 3 of season 2. Rated T because of some dirty language and content in future chapters. Neal-centric. AU in future chapters because I like my own back-stories.
1. Prologue

Prologue – "You're in pretty good shape for the shape you're in"

(Dr. Seuss)

Neal Caffrey never got ill or sick or under the weather. Never.

It just didn't happen – if there was a cold, flu or stomach bug going around he would remain fighting fit and having to put up with grumpy people who had the sniffles.

Even as a child he hadn't gotten ill; he ate healthily and exercised regularly, well that's he thought made him so immune to illness – his mother believed it was all of the herbal remedies that she insisted he take as soon as he coughed, sneezed or looked a little pale. His same mother had insisted that he practically stalk Tommy Nelson (their neighbour) when he got the chicken pox because it was so much worse as you got older. He had loved his mother but she did have unusual ideas on the healthcare system – and the moon landing. Oh, and crop circles.

Still he believed it was his fitness that gave him his almost impeccable health; swimming had always been a natural talent (as had many other things for the con man extraordinaire) and he had to be good at running because of his choice in occupation. However when Kate, Mozzie, Peter or El got sick and he was busy being the caregiver, he kept up his mother's tradition of swallowing those goddamn herbs – though he would deny this if he was ever called on it. She was after all a very smart woman.

Neal's propensity to remaining healthy hadn't however made him immune to accidents. When he was 11 he had broken his arm after falling out of the apple tree in their backyard when he had forgotten his sports bag for school. He'd ended up taking himself to the ER during lunch because of the swelling and the continuous pain.

And there was the time when during one of the best heists of his career he had fallen whilst being chased by a surprisingly fast bulky middle-aged security guard. He had skidded along the laminate flooring and scraped the top half of his thigh along the frame of a very expensive Matisse. Not only was it awkward to keep his blood from going on the crime scene – conman rule no.1 if you don't want to get caught, don't leave evidence – or the Matisse and keep running he also had the security guard to worry about.

The guard had been found 2 hours later tied up in the middle of the gallery with a note saying, "Better luck next time" in exquisite calligraphy. On top of a box of chocolates and a sorry note for the guard and his poor wife who had been stressed by her husbands lack of an answer to her phone calls.

Still, the thought of a particular agent's face upon discovering the guard only helped infinitesimally to dull the pain of having to play doctor with a needle and 24 stitches with only half a bottle of vodka for pain relief – that wasn't a five-star night in Neal's life.

One of the best accident's of Neal's life was when he met the love of his life, a blue eyed beauty.

In June 2000 when Neal Caffrey had recently met the ripe old age of 21 - the age where it became legal to do many things unfortunately theft, forgery and smuggling were not on the list. At this time though he was walking around an up and coming art museums newest exhibit purely for leisure and admiring the beauty of the lingering pink blossoms of a late New York spring. With a champagne glass in hand and an admiring gaze flitting between the fine artwork on show and the natural artwork of the blues, pinks and purples of the sunset Neal made his way through the stylish museum courtyard. At this moment though Neal gaze was firmly taken in by the sky's colours shining through in the way that is only possible in that wonderful world between night and day when the world can be both, in fact it reminded him of a similar view he'd seen with a Venetian duchess. It was a funny story actually…And just like that Neal found himself flat-blacked on the grass with a shirtful of champagne (an absolute horror to get out by the way) and a goddess on top of him. She was stunning. Her eyes were a shocking azure blue with such intriguing depths one could happily be lost in them for days. Elegantly curved rose hued lips which gorgeously complimented her midnight hair and marble cheekbones.

Neal was in love and as soon as he managed to charm Kate out of her anger enough to look into his eyes he saw the anger dissipate into the darkest depths of those pools and be replaced with a sparkle he'd only ever seen in the own eyes whilst admiring a priceless gem. The rest as they say is history.

It was fair to say Neal Caffrey's life was an exciting one and he appeared to flow through every difficulty with ease but as a child he had been clumsy and his father had disciplined him with many 'accidents' – not that Peter, Mozzie or anyone would ever be told about those.

Another unfortunate accident in a certain young conman's life was what happened to his Mom when he was 9 but, again, he didn't like to think about that, the blood – he'd never liked violence.

Anyway, all through Neal's life he didn't get sick – save the occasional stress/wine induced migraine – and though it greatly annoyed those around him (Peter definitely needed a new immune system), it was just a fact. Neal Caffrey never got sick.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – "sickness is the discord of the elements infused into the living body"

(Leonardo Da Vinci)

It was a rainy Tuesday morning in New York City 9:45 am when Neal walked into the doctors' office. To the rest of the city it was just another day worsened by the downpour slapping against the windows. But to Neal it was a day worsened by the headache, nausea, dizziness and memory loss that had been plaguing him for almost a month. Of course the rain and the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach doctors' offices always gave him weren't exactly helping either.

It had been hard to convince Peter he wasn't up to something when he had asked for the morning off to go to 'a doctor's appointment'. It had been even harder to convince Elizabeth that no, he didn't need to lie down and yes, he was sure he didn't need any paracetamol and though he did look a bit pale he wasn't in need of any herbal tea. Fortunately for Neal though El's Mother-Henning, though quite intrusive, had managed to persuade Peter to give him the whole day off of work after what he was sure was an eventful discussion during a well-timed bathroom trip. And – as he'd known when booking the appointment – they were both too busy at their respective workplaces to come with him, however Peter had to cajole El into going ahead with her client meeting with his Cow-boy up "I'm sure everything's fine" attitude.

The symptoms had started slowly at first; just what he'd suspected to be a migraine during the copycatting case – which was still the highlight of his working with the FBI by the way. Next he had been feeling dizzy if he stood up too fast which soon developed into whenever he stood up, laid down or sat. Over the past couple weeks almost everyday he had woken with a headache and the need to relieve his stomach of its contents which had been plain old frustrating and rather monotonous. However the final straw had been the memory loss; it wasn't that serious at first just a feeling of déjà vu sometimes and being unable to find the word that was on the tip of his tongue. Unfortunately for Neal words were his business so when he was undercover as Mr. Black and couldn't remember the name of his 'employer' or the safe phrase he begun to get stressed; a big deal for the super-suave conman he was. The frequency blocker that had stopped the team from tracking him had turned out to be blessing in disguise as he was sure Peter would have had his head if he'd known about his little mishap.

What had finally convinced Neal to actually go to the doctors though was a shitty (for lack of a better word) day last Thursday. He had been rudely awoken with an extra strong headache and a side order of tossed up cookies as per the new normal. Unfortunately for him though, the dizziness and nausea meant as soon as he tried to sit up off of the floor of the bathroom last night's dinner had made a third appearance. He then had to clean himself up, get dressed and brush his teeth three times (no one likes vomit breath after all ) in just under 10 minutes as throwing up was surprisingly time-consuming. He then had to rush down the stairs to Peter's annoying car horn having forgotten not only his coffee but also his trademark fedora – all before 8:30 in the morning. The day had continued down its disappointing path when he was met by Peter's annoyed and unsympathetic face making fun of him and his supposed hangover, Neal had remembered his sunglasses after all. In all truth – an admittedly rare occurrence - Neal was slightly hurt that Peter hadn't realised he was unwell and had just insisted he "cow-boy up 'cause they had a whole pile of cold case mortgage fraud to work on".

Once they reached the office Neal had gone to his desk and begun working on his pile of mortgage fraud cases '_fantastic(!)'_ until mid-morning when Peter had asked him up to his office. He walked up the stairs with slightly less bounce than usual and planted himself in his usual seat, without his feet on Peter's desk for once.

"Hey there _Benjamin Cooper_, looks like we've got a new job for you." Peter begun jovially, once Neal was seated.

After feeling blank on the apparent alias and trying to hide his confusion at not retrieving the reference Neal just decided to see where it led, "Oh yeah?" he replied noncommittally.

"Well it turns out word of Benjamin's good work got around and his services have been requested via e-mail."

Still nothing had sprung to mind and Peter's response wasn't exactly helpful; torn between continuing to feign his understanding or admitting defeat in case the information was important mixed with the jackhammers pounding in his head Neal was surprised when Peter went, "Neal, you clear on what you'll be doing?"

"What?" he replied with uncharacteristic rudeness.

Peter huffed out a breath in carefully contained annoyance, "Neal what's up with you recently, you've seemed miserable for weeks now and you're not even focusing on work anymore. I've let it go but you need to open up about what's going on in that thick skull of yours because the façade is wearing thin. Is it Kate, because there are profess-"

"It's not Kate! And I don't need some shrink to psycho-analyse why mortgage fraud makes me sad, okay?" Neal did _not _want a meeting with a stuffy psychiatrist to convince everything he'd lost it.

"Well then what is bothering you Neal, is it this case with Timmy Nolan?

"I don't even know what you're talking about, who the heck are Benjamin Cooper and Timmy Nolan?! Urghhh" Neal was getting sick of this confusing conversation and his head had just punished him for shouting '_Oh great just another thing for Peter to be suspicious of'._

Neal couldn't even talk the pain was so intense in his head so he just gently lowered himself into his usual seat, _when had he stood up anyways? _And he cradled his pounding head in his hands trying to breath through the pain.

"Are you okay, Neal?" asked Peter's protective instincts.

Neal could hear the worry and concern in Peter's voice and quickly looked up with his baby blues to silently communicate how much he didn't want medical assistance right now.

"It's nothing, just a migraine. I'm fine Peter" he said with much more conviction than he actually felt.

"Okay…well do you need the rest of the day off – I don't want you infecting the rest of the office after all" Peter offered as a vain attempt to lighten the mood.

"Migraines aren't contagious Peter, now what was this case you wanted to discuss" Neal dodged Peter's offer of the afternoon off work masterfully and lucky for him his memory loss appeared to have been forgotten (pardon the pun) in the path of the conversation.

"Well, it appears the Mayor's right-hand man has been doing some deals behind his back and got into contact with your Cooper alias to try to hide the funds and the scandal from the press" Peter passed him a file, which he started to flick through, "what do you think?" Peter had gone from concerned friend to lawman in moments and had that twinkle in his eyes when he was handed a new puzzle and wanted to see Neal impress him with his take on it.

"He's probably been using the money for his affair with the Mayor's secretary and doesn't want his wife or boss to find out about all of the campaign-funded flowers." Neal replied matter-of-factly a few minutes later after reading the file and being reminded of Benjamin Cooper through his report of the other case. It was clear the secretary and right-hand man were having an affair from their statements which matched too much and included just a little too much information to be true, besides the secretary was considerably attractive. As well as this the guy had no previous record and the funds disappearance ended with him instead of going off to a fence – the feds just didn't seem to grasp the obvious emotional sides to cons sometimes.

Peter's previous worries appeared to dissipate at the return of the Caffrey charm and arrogance – he got these endearing little lines near his eyes and would play with his pen when he was concerned about Neal.

The case was wrapped up without the need for him to go undercover as the secretary was quick to turn on her lover once the threats of jail time were dished out and Peter forgot about Caffrey's slip and just moved on to the next case, with Neal working even harder to hide his illness and booking the doctor's appointment to hopefully put it behind him.

That day however hadn't ended with just a little slip-up for Neal. His head had determinedly remained at its pounding and he had had to excuse himself three times at the office to toss the measly crumbs he had left – having not been well enough to eat since the night before.

None of the days since had been as bad, but none had been exactly peachy either. So it was this shitty day that persuaded Neal to call up his local doctor's and book his appointment, he wanted to know what was causing him to feel this way so he could tell it to damn well stop.

So that was how the Great Neal Caffrey found himself in a bland doctor's office looking across at a stereotypical middle-aged guy in a suit and white coat. Hell, the guy even had a stethoscope and glasses – how more stereotypical could he get?

"So, Mr. Campbell what appears to be the problem?" the man asked in a friendly yet objective tone.

"Please, call me James." At this Neal applied his charismatic and professional smile, "Well, for the past few weeks I've been having migraines, feeling sick and dizzy. Oh, and I've been forgetting things that I only did recently."

James Campbell was the alias he used on the very rare occasion he had to go to the doctors; he had taken great care to conceal this name because if it were looked up people would be able to view his weaknesses – allergies, blood type, any medical problems and his past. James Campbell was Neal's real name and he didn't want anyone, not even Mozzie or Peter to know this, there was just too much history and he didn't want to deal with the repercussions of them discovering he'd basically been lying to them for years so he just stuck to Neal George Caffrey, he liked Neal anyways.

"Hmm... how often do you have these dizzy spells and the memory loss, Mr. Campbell?" the doctor continued, ignoring his assurance to call him James, which he didn't mind – the guy was just staying professional.

"Well the memory loss has only happened on a couple of occasions but the dizziness is almost constant whenever I move from sitting to lying down or to standing." Neal replied concisely.

"Okay Mr. Campbell, have you been hearing any voices that aren't there or experiencing any other symptoms?" he questioned

"No… I don't think so, I am more tired than usual but that's probably just from not being able to keep much down." He answered slightly cautiously; the comment about hearing voices was kind of worrying.

"Alright, where is the pain in your head?" the doctor kept on seemingly oblivious to Neal's discomfort about the last question.

"Umm…around here." Neal said whilst gesturing to the area above and around his left ear.

"Hmmm… okay. I'm going to prescribe you some painkillers for the headache and medicine which should help with the nausea and hopefully the dizziness. I'm afraid I can't do anything about the memory loss but I want you to book an appointment before you leave to have an MRI scan at Mount Sinai within the next week and I will call you once I have the results and we know how we need to proceed."

"Ok, thank you Dr. Reynolds" Neal said, only now glancing at the doctor's name badge.

As Neal was leaving the doctor's office, booking his appointment at Mount Sinai and retrieving his prescriptions many thoughts were going through his mind. He thought of how lucky he was Mount Sinai and the doctor's office were within his radius, he worried over the need to have an MRI scan and the ominous feeling this gave him. He was nervous about the question of hearing voices and anxious if this symptom was going to develop for him. But most of all he was puzzling over how he was going to have an MRI scan with an electronic tracking anklet on.


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Hi! :) just wanna say thanks for all of you wonderful people that have read this and a quick apology in advance that updates will probably be quite slow after this - but I will try to update weekly.**

**I know this story is very Neal-centric but others will appear soon and there will be a Peter chapter, 2 or 3 chapters from now.**

**Oh, and before I forget - Disclaimer: I don't own White Collar or any of its characters **

* * *

><p>Chapter 2 – "the purpose of art is rubbing the dust of daily life off our souls"<p>

(Pablo Picasso)

It was almost a week after Neal's original appointment and he still hadn't thought of a way to get out of the anklet for his scan on Sunday - short of cutting the thing off or telling Peter, Diana or Jones. Both of which were unfavourable options; Neal was uncharacteristically stumped.

The case they had just closed involved a fugitive FBI agent who had been in an 'inappropriate relationship' with his CI - a fact that brought disturbing mental imagery to Neal's brain. Though he wasn't adverse to relationships with other men, one with Peter made him feel more than a touch nauseous. Anyway; telling Peter, Jones and Diana wasn't an option because he loved the undercover work he could do at the bureau and the amount of trust Peter and he currently had. If anyone at the office knew about what was going on with him he would be treated with kid gloves and the equality he had strove to build up would be strewn aside and in its place would be concern, worry and worst of all - pity. Neal Caffrey was many things but a victim was _not_ one of them.

Neal had also been trying to figure out how to get an FBI escort to the White Bored exhibit. If he did manage to get himself a babysitter he may be able to sneak off and get his scan done but that was unfortunately rather unlikely based on the timings and the amount of scrutiny he would be under whilst at the exhibit.

So, when rogue Marshall John Deckard just happened to have his keys within grasp Neal decided he would be kind enough to relieve the guy of the key to his tracking anklet. After all he would be able to kill a whole flock of birds with that stone; he could get his scan done, go to the exhibit, go after Kate's killer without the bureau's stupid rules and if push came to shove he could run with a massive head start on Peter. He would have to cover his tracks well though because he couldn't be seen in public if his anklet showed he was at home, there were so many opportunities from just one little piece of metal.

Actually Neal was so deep in thought with all he could do that he barely noticed Peter's boss's boss approaching until he was right next to him – with an interesting proposition.

And before he knew it Bancroft and he were walking around the White Bored exhibit exchanging views on the ingenuity of the artists' interpretations of the modern workplace. The artwork was fantastic and Bancroft wasn't stuffy or snobby yet still well-informed and insightful. In fact: Neal was happy and not just kind of happy but actually, seriously happy – he was looking at brilliant artwork (legally), in the company of someone he had quickly learnt to respect yet didn't treat him like dirt.

The exhibit was large with pieces on a range of things one found in the modern bureaucracy of work from suits to desks to meetings to coffee and all done on whiteboards with markers – genius!

They were coming up to an eye-catching and completely relatable piece showing the effects of a good cup of coffee - with the before being a black and white tired old suit, which was kind of reminiscent of Hughes, and the after being a bright much more lively fellow – more similar to Jones. The inevitable discussion of these similarities and of the sludge the bureau passed off as coffee was halted when Neal suddenly felt a wave of dizziness sweep over him. One moment he was walking perfectly upright, the next he was making an embarrassingly lopsided amble to the nearest seat. As soon as he felt the slight bump of sitting on the bench his head sent out an angered jab of pain and continued to hammer at the sides of his skull whilst also managing to incessantly ring and create the illusion of being on the waltzers. If Neal wasn't currently trying to keep the contents of his stomach _inside _his stomach and stop any humiliating descents to the floor he would have been impressed by his body's ability to multi-task.

Overall though, despite feeling decidedly under the weather, he was glad that this hadn't happened at the office; not only would it have been degrading for his colleagues to see him like this it could have been endangering to more than just himself. That thought brought the puzzle of whether his face was ill and pale, green and sickly or red from embarrassment.

That puzzle was then cut off though by a pain so intense it had him with his eyes screwed shut and panting for air paired with an even more extreme sense of nausea – man how he wished he'd remembered to take those damn pills today in all of that stupid excitement.

As the strong waves of illness became more subdued a more worrisome problem began to present itself - not that Neal was truly aware of it at the time.

~WC~

Kyle Bancroft was a strong, determined and open-minded kind of guy; it was these qualities paired with a no-nonsense attitude and a natural inquisitiveness that made him the brilliant FBI agent that he was. And it was the reflection of these qualities in Caffrey that warmed the director (albeit reluctantly) to the somewhat reformed conman and paired with the skill he had seen Caffrey display when solving the case Kyle had resolved to take the conman to the art exhibit he had apparently been trying to coax an FBI escort to.

Bancroft had actually wanted to view the White Bored exhibit himself so hadn't been greatly inconvenienced by the unexpected company and as the evening went on and he and Caffrey exchanged views on the pieces he found he was enjoying being with the consultant and hearing his unique perspective on the art more than he'd initially expected himself to.

So as Kyle stood in front of an interesting piece showing the revitalising qualities of coffee and was just about to offer his take on the piece, he was taken aback by the sudden empty space beside him where Caffrey had been standing just a few moments ago.

After conducting a brief visual search – it would be foolish to panic if the guy had just been loitering at another piece - Kyle was further shocked by the downright sickly looking man on the bench a few feet away. As he walked over to Caffrey he studied the man; he currently had one arm wrapped protectively over his stomach and another rubbing at his skull. It was only when he was right in front of the man though did he see the deeply pained expression on his face, his mouth was in a straight lined grimace and his eyes were scrunched shut as though he was trying to hide inside of himself in the darkness that created. And it was also from here he could see the trembling of the young man's body as he fought off the waves of pain he must be feeling. Concern – _professional_ concern – etched itself across the elder man's face as he looked down at the suddenly ill young man.

And it was only from here that Bancroft was able to catch the young man as he started a nose dive straight to the hard marble flooring – God, that would have left a bruise in the morning.

Neal was practically a dead weight in his arms as he supported the kid back into an upright position, albeit still leaning against his arm. For the first time since Bancroft had looked over at the young man, he opened his eyes and Kyle was taken aback by the anguish and pain pooling in those crystal blues.

Throughout the week he had known Neal the barriers had always been up in his body language, facial expressions, carefully planned speech and most especially in his eyes but now he was seeing so much depth and honesty in Neal's most striking feature that it scared him.

What was even more worrisome though was what didn't appear in his bright blue eyes – recognition, the kid was staring around the room blankly and when he spotted his temporary pillow he seemed grateful but confusedly so. There was no polite embarrassment or even sheepishness just confusion at whose shoulder it was he leaning on.

Neal's next words shocked Bancroft back into the present and away from his ponderings.

"Gonna be sick" he mumbled in a completely un-Caffrey-like fashion.

At those words Bancroft hurriedly stood up and half guided, half dragged Neal to the nearest toilets where he preceded to do just that on and off for the next ten minutes, leaving Kyle to wait awkwardly outside the stall. He absentmindedly wondered whether he should be in there rubbing the kid's back or something – his bedside manner was pretty non-existent.

Eventually though Neal stumbled out of the stall and splashed a generous handful of water on his face as well as washing his mouth out a few times. The guy looked a bit better Bancroft acknowledged; some of the colour had returned to his face and he no longer seemed to be in such high levels of pain. But, although he no longer looked like he was going to throw up all other the shop, there still seemed to be a mask of confusion on his face and an openness to which the agent was not accustomed to on criminals, no matter how reformed they are.

The director approached him,slightly cautiously, and asked, "how you feeling Caffrey?" He was a bit dismayed at how much of his presumably hidden worry seeped through into his usually gruff voice.

Neal didn't seem to notice though as he replied quickly with a polite, "Better, thank you sir."

And just as the director was about to let out the breath he didn't even realise he was holding Caffrey added warily, "Wait, how do you know my name?" whilst backing away from the seeming threat.

In all of the years Bancroft had worked as an FBI agent, and there were admittedly a lot of them, he had never been taken quite so off guard as by that comment. So much so that he didn't immediately explain the situation to the skeptical and almost frightened Neal, he just stood there with his mouth hanging open - he could've sworn he heard his jaw hit the floor.

When Bancroft was able to speak again he simply said, "Neal, we've been working with each other for the past week or so. Director Bancroft – we were working on the Franklin case … or should it be the Deckard case? Anyway, we know each other Neal. In fact I'm Hughes' boss."

Neal still had no recognition in his eyes but, though he continued to look skeptical, he accepted Kyle's help in leading him back out of the bathroom and to the bench, he probably wouldn't have been able to walk the short distance by himself anyway. Bancroft was still very concerned with how drastically the young man's health had 180'ed but he decided he would wait until Caffrey was more himself to question him and simply led the way in silence grabbing a water bottle on the way.

~WC~

About ten minutes later Neal had recomposed himself and appeared to be feeling almost normal again, which consequently meant the suave conman was extremely embarrassed about what had happened between him and Peter's boss's boss. He had completely forgotten one of the most powerful men who could put him back in orange and revealed one of the most vulnerable sides of the bureau's asset - _Yup, you are definitely going back to prison._

Bancroft had remained silent sitting next to Neal and seemingly waiting for him to make the first move.

Which he did, awkwardly, "I…uh…I'm so sorry about _that_ Director Bancroft ... sir". _Great now you can't even string a proper sentence together, get a hold of yourself Caffrey._

"What the Hell _was_ that, Caffrey?!" Bancroft interrogated in his 'I'm a high-ranking FBI agent who could easily send you back to prison so don't lie to me' voice and although he was whispering it was still as intimidating as it was designed to be.

"I…err…I forgot who you were, sir" Neal mumbled sheepishly, speeding up the last part.

"I know that" Now he sounded annoyed – like a teacher to a pupil that didn't understand, "…but, why?" his voice softened with concern.

Neal knew he couldn't exactly get out of this now, "To be honest, sir, I don't know. My doctor he, well, he wants me to have an MRI scan but that can't exactly happen because of my anklet and well I can't tell the bureau cause I'll just go back to prison… no one wants damaged goods."

Neal had said more than he originally intended but once he started it just sort of kept coming, his walls were still undergoing repairs. Bancroft also looked a bit shocked by Neal's forthcoming response – after all it was rather uncharacteristic – especially that final ominous statement.

"Oh, well what's wrong with you?" The director queried. _It appears_ _they don't teach tact at Quantico. _

As an afterthought he hurriedly added, "If you don't mind me asking."

"Uh…well, I've had migraines frequently for the past couple months, nausea, dizziness and then, as you saw, some memory loss. But it isn't that bad, I mean my doctor warned me about hearing voices and that hasn't happened." Neal explained – it was a relief to get some of the weeks of stress of his shoulders. Short of asking for the doctor's appointment, Neal hadn't told anybody – even Mozzie – about how he was feeling. No-one had even noticed that he was ill.

Though Bancroft was trying to conceal his emotions Neal was very skilled at reading people so could see the slight widening of the eyes in shock and the slight drawing together of the eyebrows in concern – he didn't deserve that.

"Look…um…this scan. When are you meant to have it?" He was clearly trying to be more understanding in his questioning.

"Sunday at 11, why?" Neal replied with more than a hint of trepidation in his voice.

Bancroft chose to ignore it, "Good – my flight doesn't leave until Monday at 6. I'll pick you up at 10." The director managed to convey sincerity and determination that the decision had already been made for the young conman.

"Wait…what?" Neal was more than a little taken aback by the statement.

"Sunday at 10, we can't have a valuable bureau asset damaged now can we." Bancroft replied good-humouredly. "Besides, how else are you going to get there?"

Neal decided it was best not to mention the anklet key burning a hole in his suit pocket or the fact he was booked in as James Campbell, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it and so he just gratefully accepted the director's offer/order.

The remainder of the evening was spent companionably comparing views on artwork, New York, DC and planning what would happen on Sunday.

It seemed Neal finally had an ally he could share his medical problems with, carefully. Bancroft wasn't all that bad. Now all he had to do was; keep James Campbell hidden; conceal his medical problems from everyone else (and receive treatment for said problems); and continue to hunt for Kate's killer, all without revealing the anklet key. Oh, and he had to continue his everyday life on a tenuous parole with his workaholic partner. It seemed there was never a dull moment in the life of Neal Caffrey.


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: Quick warning, some coarse language in this chapter.

Chapter 3 – "curiosity about the world and all its corners is a beautiful thing"

(Stephen Fry)

Saturday passed quite normally, well Neal's version of normalcy anyways. He continued his investigation into the mysterious music box and the hunt for Kate's killer with his trusty partner in crime (allegedly) Mozzie. And in the evening he completed a charcoal portrait of his lost love in an attempt to relieve his stress; it was either that or wine and not only was he afraid Peter might 'just pop by' when he was in one of his most loose-lipped phases he was also concerned he would go through his entire collection just on his guilt over Kate's murder.

It was his fault she was dead. His fault the only thing left of her sits in an urn in his apartment. It's all his fault.

He should have been able to find her, protect her. He had been selfish, a dreamer, to drag her into his dangerous world; Mozzie often said guys like them aren't meant to have happy endings. He didn't deserve one anyway.

He should have done something to help her, to stop her from… dying.

Why did she have to die?!

Fowler; his guilt was only outweighed by his burning fury for that bastard. That evil, manipulative, murdering son of a bitch blew up the best thing that had ever happened to him and what happened?

He got away whilst Neal spent 3 months in federal prison after watching the love of his life being blown to pieces right in front of him…he can still recall everything little detail of that moment.

He remembers the stench of jet fuel and burning flesh that surrounded him like an inescapable miasma of death, the raging flames that taunted him as though the Grim Reaper himself was mocking his cowardice and compelling him to leap into his strangling claws. The feel of the intense heat as it stroked his face scratching his skin and his soul away to blackened rubble. And the visceral screams that filled the air, the desperate screams that managed to yell out above the screeching of the explosion and the roaring of the fire. His screams, as he cried out for the life that was lost and the life that would never be. Her life and his life and their life together all stopped when that plane exploded.

He can't forget these images and smells and sounds because every night he goes back to that hangar and experiences them all over again.

He has to make Fowler pay; he must get justice for her_._

After waking up on the sofa covered in charcoal and sweating as though the flames were still licking his spine Neal felt the familiar loss as though it was new again, a wound that would never close.

But, if Neal Caffrey was anything it was a conman so he pushed the tumultuous emotions aside and began to deal with the problems he could.

He had been investigating the music box and Kate's death all of yesterday - hell, all of his free time - with Mozzie and yet they were no closer in solving either mystery. The trail ended with Fowler and an unbearably hot winter's day. He worked tirelessly whenever he could in attempt to figure out why Kate had to die. He had ended up collapsing, physically exhausted, on the sofa at 4am after failing to calm enough to sleep and had woken just 4 hours later covered in grey dust with a scream dying on his lips.

He was quite glad in actuality that he had woken up much earlier than needed because it would give him the chance to quell his nervous stomach and actually be able to force some food down before meeting Bancroft and heading to the hospital. If he continued to only be able to eat the measly amount he was currently consuming it would begin to get very noticeable.

A few hours later at 11 o'clock Neal was sat in a cramped white-walled waiting room with butterflies dancing around his stomach and a quite-caring-if-rather-overbearing FBI agent waiting for him outside. Bancroft had turned out to be much nicer that he had initially anticipated a bureau higher-up to be and had luckily been willing to wait in the main waiting area for him to come back out from his scan. He guessed losing his cool the other night had not only proved the validity of his need for the MRI scan but also provoked a softer and almost adorable protective side to the gruff fellow which conveniently was rather trusting.

"James Campbell" called the kind yet clinical nurse working at the reception desk and he was directed to a room imaginatively entitled no.403.

~WC~

Dr. Samuel Winters had always been intrigued with the human body and its propensity to not only be able to maintain the phenomenon that was homeostasis but also to withstand the stress and challenges we put it under in everyday life. He was especially in awe of the brain, it was a masterpiece; faster than any computer, controlling speech, emotion, memory, sounds, vision and all pretty much unnoticed by the average Joe. Sam also loved sci-fi movies and chess, he wore big glasses and had dimples that came up whenever he laughed – he was a self-confessed nerd.

But, he loved being nerdy because the world is so much more interesting when you stop and look at it – curiosity may have killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back. The patterns of how many petals are on flowers, the genetics of the beauty of one's inheritance and the true meaning in literature and art all just gave way to new layers of appreciation for the perfection that we can discover.

This was why he had decided to become a doctor; to help those whose bodies were no longer functioning as they should and to meet others who shared his insatiable curiosity for the world. At the moment he may be just a couple of years out of med school and only a budding radiologist but he had dreams beyond just doing the scans and writing reports – he wanted to help people.

But for now his newest patient had just entered and he begun to recite his speech, "Good morning, my name is Dr. Winters and I'll be your radiologist for your scan this morning. I want to assure you that the scan will be painless and there are no after effects from it. It will take about 30 minutes for us to get all of the images we need of your brain and I'll need you to remain as still as possible during this time so the images are clear. I will be just over the intercom if you have any questions or worries, and you can listen to any music you've brought with you – just give me the CD or your iPod and I'll put it on for you. Do you have any questions Mr. Campbell?"

Throughout the whole of this Sam had been setting up the equipment and reading over the notes on Mr. Campbell – turns out he had had a scan about 6 months ago after he had been injured in an explosion but there hadn't been any anomalies. It was only at the mention of Mr. Campbell's name that he stopped his musings and looked over at the guy.

Honestly he was shocked, the guy was beautiful, an Adonis sculpted by the Grecian Gods. "You're at work keep it professional!" he internally chastised himself and luckily regained his cool before the man – Mr. Campbell – returned his gaze. His eyes were a shade of cerulean blue even the sky couldn't rival and Sam once again forced himself to return to his job and specifically the pain he could see reflected in his patient's baby blues. He tried not to betray his less than professional feelings and instead offered a reassuring half-smile and directed him over to the MRI scanner, taking the proffered iPod back to his place at the intercom and computer. All whilst trying not to blush at the grateful smile he received, "stop fawning Sam!".

Much as Sam didn't want to wish ill on this lovely man, he did hope fate allowed them the chance to meet again, hopefully in a less professional setting.

~WC~

Neal had never had a problem with claustrophobia or arachnophobia or heights or most common fears for that matter, in fact many would believe he was fearless to withstand all he had and pull off the daring heists and stunts he had accomplished in his relatively short lifetime. Neal in fact did have fears – boredom, pain for those he loves and clowns (especially when said clowns have chainsaws) – but he had never experienced claustrophobia.

That wasn't to say he had never felt uncomfortable in small spaces like air vents, crawl spaces and, well, an 8 by 10 prison cell. Those were very uncomfortable he'd have you know. But now Neal didn't just feel uncomfortable and yet he didn't feel claustrophobic either.

Neal felt as though a swarm of butterflies were somersaulting across his stomach and as though his heart was experiencing the after-effects of a late night chocolate feast. And at the same time he felt as though his mind was spinning with so many thoughts that it was blank, like when something moves so fast you can't see it, and as though the small space was closing in and at the same time cushioning him from the outside.

So when the opening bars of Beethoven's 5th Symphony began to play from his iPod over the intercom Neal felt the dark humour of the tune but he also appreciated the beauty of the piece and allowed himself a short respite from the world to just sink into the music of one of the greats.

When Neal opened his eyes again once the piece had finished he felt remarkably refreshed, as though the song in all of its dramatic glory had simplified the tangled up mess that was his life. He started planning what he was going to do and how to stop those closest to him from finding out, with one of his favourite quotes in mind, "life is more manageable when thought of as a scavenger hunt as opposed to a surprise party".

When Neal emerged from the beastly machine 20 minutes later he felt much calmer and prepared yet the lingering nerves wouldn't go away. As he said goodbye to the kindly Dr. Winters his sense of foreboding tripled at the poorly masked sadness and sympathy in the radiologist's gaze, unless someone had just kicked the guy's puppy something was seriously wrong.

He hoped his disappointment at the young doctor's expression wasn't too overt – he was a conman after all – but it was a hard thing to disguise when his head was spinning like Mozzie's when he discovered a new conspiracy theory.

As he approached Bancroft with what he hoped was an appropriately blank expression he was struck with the desire to pour out all of the churning emotions those beautiful green eyes had made in his nauseated stomach. He didn't.

Bancroft studied him whilst getting to his feet clearly searching for some appeasement to his inner agent's curiosity. When he didn't find anything he just asked without preamble, "How'd it go, Caffrey?" in a slightly softened version of his gruff voice.

"Great, thanks sir." Neal replied in a part cheery part weary voice as he climbed into the agent's typical 'FED!' black ford.

"Good, good. When d'you get the results?"

"Sometime in the week. Look, sir, I know this is a weird situation what with not telling Peter and me going all … odd on you the other day and well, thanks."

"No problem, son. When I first started with the bureau I got ill a few months into the job and didn't tell anyone about it. I ended up collapsing a couple weeks later from pneumonia." Bancroft smiled nostalgically and shared a chuckle with Neal. He continued good-humouredly, "Someone has to make sure you don't collapse on us Caffrey".

"Yeah, well, I cause Peter enough stress already." Neal replied with an unrepentant gleam of mischief in his eyes.

As they pulled up alongside June's he once again debated with himself but that self-preserving paranoiac voice in him won out and he got out of the car with the Mozzie voice yelling at him, "Don't admit to anything!"

Neal waved off Bancroft and started to climb up the stairs just as he was opening the door he paused, wait a minute – hearing voices?


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: A few days after the last chapter, during Company Man

Chapter 4: "Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean there isn't an invisible demon about to eat your face"

(Jim Butcher)

As Mozzie sat in Neal's apartment swirling around a rather lovely Shiraz he thought about his long-time friend. Mozzie wasn't worried about his fellow conman per se, he was just … professionally concerned. Yeah, just concern from one man in the business to another. Well if you could call getting in bed with The Man being in the business that is. But that was all just a temporary solution whilst Neal searched for Kate, all just one long con he assured himself once again. And now the con would continue whilst Neal searched for her killer.

Mozzie just hoped their reputations wouldn't be completely tarnished by the time this was over and that Neal would actually want whatever _this _was to be over. Neal was uncomfortably chummy with the Suit and conmen couldn't afford to get emotionally attached in a long con - Mozzie determinedly ignored his unlikely friendship with Mrs. Suit and ongoing Parcheesi championship with the enthralling June.

Anyway, professional concern; he had been recruited to inform the bureaucratic pigs if Neal were to do anything stupid and while he would usually and very openly baulk at the very idea of narking he understood the Suit's worries. Neal was impulsive at the best of times but now he could be completely out of control even if he appeared to be coping. While The Suit may consider himself an expert on Neal Caffrey conman extraordinaire Moz felt quite comfortable in the knowledge that he knew the real Neal the best. He knew the man behind the mask and so he could recognize that Neal was understandably struggling to cope with losing Kate; he knew that from friendship and years of building up trust not obsessively reading files! He knew because it was he who had stayed over a couple of nights since Neal had returned from the jaws of the oppressor and he had heard his friend's near hyperventilating and bitten back screams whilst he had pretended to be sleeping. On a very rare empathetic moment Mozzie had gotten up to rub his best friend's back whilst he was, nightmare induced, vomiting – and then disinfected that hand repeatedly whilst informing Neal of the alien life forms hidden among us – after all that's what friends are for.

"Moz, what are you doing here, apart from drinking my wine that is?" speak of the devil.

"Well since you made me work with the Lady Suit and I found the sheet music in her bag, I thought you would want to uncover the governmental cover-up together." He said this with his laptop already open, fingers poised above the pre-sanitized keys.

"Sorry Moz as compelling as governmental cover-ups sound I'm wiped. Feel free to stay and uncover the little green men though" Neal offered with the knowledge Moz would probably stay anyway, "How was teaming up with the Man… or the Woman?"

"'The most terrifying words in the English language: I'm from the government and I'm here to help'" Mozzie answered dryly and with distaste.

"Ronald Reagan" Neal called back from the bathroom and as he walked across from the closet to his bed Mozzie could see the minuscule scarring on his back that was at first glance indiscernible. The thing with perfect recall though is that Mozzie knows what a normal back should look like and Neal's doesn't. When Mozzie had asked Neal about it though he had been completely stonewalled and abandoned for 3 days in Moscow without his personal Russian translator - or clothes. He hadn't asked again.

"The world of corporate enslavement more tiring than we assumed?" Mozzie inquired about Neal's rather early retirement – turning down working to find Kate's killer must mean he was exhausted. Although Mozzie and Kate had never really warmed up to each other, Mozzie had spent enough time with the sickeningly in love couple to recognize the true feelings they had for each other. Mozzie had known Neal for a long time and when he had started seeing Kate he had such a sparkle in his eyes that Mozzie had known the poor kid was in love, it was unfortunate he was right about guys like them not getting happy endings.

"Our tail pulled a gun on me when I was on my way back to the office" Mozzie's eyebrows quirked with interest, "So I spent the rest of the day planning how to break into my new boss's office to get the documents he's been shredding and trying to support someone who I've only known for 2 days and I don't' have enough energy to search for the love of my life's killer" Neal sounded frustrated with himself now but Moz thought it was not with today but all the days since Kate died almost 7 months ago.

"'Being human is not seeking perfection', Neal" Mozzie attempted to comfort albeit with some discomfort himself.

"George Orwell. And I'm not sure he meant it as a comforting phrase but thanks, Moz. I just, I need to sleep this off."

Mozzie took that as his invitation to leave or shut up as Neal climbed into bed and was almost immediately asleep. Mozzie continued to work so he could quell his 'professional concern' and as he made some interesting discoveries, he most certainly did not watch over his young friend whilst he slept.

~WC~

When Neal had left for work that morning he had been bemused to find his best friend uncomfortably dozing over his laptop after apparently feeling obliged to watch over him. Neal loved Moz despite his rather plentiful quirks and he was one of the most loyal people Neal had ever met which was impressive considering how he earned his money.

The planting of the scanner on Kent's shredder had gone down without a hitch earlier today and all they now needed to do was have Kent come after Jessica when Peter just happened to mention her during their current meeting. Neal was uncomfortable with using a civilian as bait but apparently the FBI had protective custody down.

As they were awaiting the agent that was scheduled to pick up Jessica for her protection Neal felt the vibrations of his phone.

"Neal, are you sitting down or standing?" Mozzie

"What's this about Mozzie?" Neal inquired as he continued to search the street for the Fed Car that was going to come.

"Sitting or Standing?"

"Standing, Moz"

"Well, you might want to hold on to something then" that was slightly foreboding, "Neal…Peter knows Diana has the music box".

What?!

Mozzie was still talking, "I'm sorry Neal but the trail stops with Peter".

Neal happened to look over at Jessica at this moment and caught sight of the pen with Kent's password in her bag and abruptly hung up on Mozzie mid-sentence. His anger latched onto the much-deserving new target.

Snatching it out from her bag he demanded with not a hint of his usual charm, "Why do you have this Jessica?"

"I...I saw it on your desk a-"

"What did you do?!" he talked right over her bumbling excuses.

Now that she was discovered and cornered she self-righteously explained, "I wanted him to know how _he _felt"

"Poison" Neal surmised, "Where did you put it?"

"In his daily vice" She answered acrimoniously.

"Peter's in there!" He held himself back from yelling at her and as she stood there somehow looking both unrepentant and contrite he was already carelessly barging past the sudden blockage of pedestrians in his haste to reach his…Peter.

He dashed over to the front desk of the building and as he tried to get the security guard to let him up to Kent's floor without throttling the man he kept seeing flashes of Hayes body; of Jessica's description of how he had died; of imaginings of Peter dying from that damned Armagnac.

_This is taking too long! _When the security guard turned around to call Kent Neal took his opportunity and charged for the lifts ignoring the guard's pleas and expertly leaping the security barrier. He ran into the conveniently open lift and breathed out a big sigh of relief when the doors closed just in time for the guard to be blocked out from stopping him. Adrenaline was coursing through his system and he was eerily calm as he dismantled the lift control panel and hot-wired it to take him up to the top without any of his usual care to be discrete. Peter better not make any snide comments about my misspent youth for at least a month Neal burned off some excitement by thinking only half-jokingly. He felt strangely detached from the situation in front of him as though it were happening to someone else and as he travelled up in the agonizingly slow lift he absently wondered if he was in shock.

However when the lift all too chirpily announced that he had reached the top floor Neal jolted back to reality as fear flooded his veins. What if he was too late? He didn't think he could deal if Peter - the one man who actually believed he could change - died so soon after he lost Kate.

After briefly rationalizing to himself that the longer he waited the lower Peter's chances were he took the first step out of the lift and quickly broke into a sprint towards Kent's office. His stomach turned at the sight that met him; Peter was collapsed on the floor, unconscious. He hastened to lift the older man up by the shoulders and dragged him back to the lift banging on the button in the hope it would somehow make it appear faster.

Neal looked down in concern and relief as Peter began to stir and he mumbled in a semi-conscious state, "Go back". When he realized Neal either hadn't heard him or had ignored him though he insisted with more strength and grabbed at Neal's arms, " Get Kent! "

Neal looked down at the indisposed man as though he had grown a second head and explained somewhat exasperatedly, "Peter, you're dying! We don't have time" Neal may be a notoriously non-violent gentleman criminal but going back to drag out the murderer responsible for Peter's current life/death experience seemed like a bit of a no-brainer to him. However when Peter turned his own puppy dog eyes on him and beseeched, "We never leave a man behind" Neal couldn't find it within himself to refuse and quickly ran back to grab the man, if he didn't move him with as much care as he had Peter well he must have been tired.

Finally the lift arrived and with it the paramedics but the queasy feeling in Neal's gut didn't go away. And as he was proved right and had to watch the paramedics inject Peter with an adrenaline pen he thought this could be me, this could be Peter having to watch as I get wheeled away if I collapse like Bancroft prophesied. He resolved then and there to tell someone about what was going on with him - at the right time.

And then his phone rung.


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: hi! I'm admittedly rather nervous about this chapter; it's one of the first times I have written like this and definitely the first time I've shared it. So any feedback you have good or bad would be greatly appreciated, thanks.

Chapter 5: "In three words I can summarise all I've learnt about live: It goes on"

(Robert Frost)

10 years. A decade. So much can happen in 10 years; love, joy, pain, betrayal … death.

As the bartender passed over Neal's drink he looked up to the sky and toasted before downing the drink in one. He deserved it today, he was celebrating. They were never actually (legally) married but forever the romantic he had already laid some daffodils wrapped in a tin binding in front of her urn.

He still couldn't believe she was gone. He thought he should be hurting right now, sat at home crying into a glass of wine maybe. But instead he just felt … empty. Well, no, that wasn't completely true – he could feel all of the tumultuous emotions inside of him, all of the raw grief and pain but it was all out of reach, boxed in a corner somewhere and it felt like it wasn't his. He guessed that was why he found himself here in some bar drinking like any other guy rather than sobbing on his bathroom floor or whatever he was supposed to be doing. It seemed Neal Caffrey was such a sufficient conman he had conned himself into somehow being okay when the love of his life was dead on their 10 year anniversary.

He felt so alone in his emptiness, Mozzie had left on 'business', June was visiting one of her granddaughters and Peter just wouldn't understand and Neal found he couldn't bring himself to make him. He didn't want someone to ask questions or demand explanations he just wanted someone to talk to who wouldn't judge him or Kate regardless of what he said. Elizabeth came to mind but he discarded that thought with the assertion that if he opened up to her it would essentially be like telling Peter.

Neal was looking into his refilled glass of scotch when he felt a light, cautious tap on his shoulder, "Mr. Campbell?"

Who would…"Dr. Winters?" It was the radiologist from the hospital, the one whose emerald eyes had confirmed all Neal had needed to know. He hadn't really needed the phone call and subsequent appointment with Reynolds to tell him what was going on but it had still been a shock for the words to be spoken. Before then it could just be written off as him reading too much into things or overreacting but now, now it was real.

Neal realised he had zoned out when the doctor was still stood there slightly awkwardly and said, presumably for the second time, "Would it be ok if I sat with you?"

He budged his stool over a bit and gestured to the seat next to him, continuing to look down. In the back of his mind he heard "James, don't be rude" and he winced. It was his mother's voice; he hadn't heard her voice in so long. Logically he knew this meant he should stop drinking and take the pills Reynolds prescribed him but emotionally he had to admit it was kind of nice to be able to hear his mother again.

He sensed the doctor's eyes on him and wondered whether he should make like Peter and bring up 'the game' whatever that was at the minute. Luckily Winters made the first move, "So, what brings you here Mr. Campbell?"

"It's my anniversary and call me James, Mr. Campbell's my father" Neal regained some conversational skills and kept up the chitchat if only to avoid the awkwardness that had settled before.

"Well if I'm calling you James I guess you should call me Sam. Besides being called doctor still feels a bit odd"

Neal noticed that rather than commenting or asking why he would be here on his anniversary like he had assumed he would the doctor, no, Sam had just nodded in acceptance.

"So, what are you doing here then Sam?"

"Stag do, my cousin is getting married so I get to hang out with a group of crazed men for the evening." Neal assumed said cousin was female from Sam's apparent distaste and distance from the men.

"Still, it isn't all that bad, they are quite entertaining" At this Sam brandished his phone and as if to further prove his point one of the men from the rowdy group started slurring his love for the groom whilst practically hanging off his body in a hug.

"Ah, the effects of alcohol" Neal said and they toasted while sharing a conspiratorially humorous glance as Sam proceeded to take a few photos of the men. Neal decided that he liked this guy.

"Where's the lucky girl then?" Sam asked innocently and Neal felt his insides twist at the similarity between his expression and that of Kate when they had been practising their 'innocent' looks, his face also bore a resemblance to some other looks they had shared. Sam appeared to be looking at Neal's hand and had noticed the lack of a ring.

"She died."

"Oh…I'm so sorry" And he was, as far as Neal could tell, genuine.

"It would have been 10 years today" Neal said sadly into his scotch glass.

"How long has it been since she passed?"

"8 months, but we had been apart for a while." Neal felt it best to leave out the whole prison sentence, international thieves, kidnapping part, "But then we had found each other again and … she's gone."

"8 months…the explosion" Sam surmised sympathetically, "It was in your medical records" he hastened to clarify when Neal's head snapped up enquiringly.

"Look busy, Big Brother's watching" Brandon Boyd

"What?"

Neal didn't realise he had said that out loud rather than Mozzie saying it in his head, "Just something a friend of mine would say."

"Ah, he sounds… interesting."

"Well, may we live in interesting times"

"May you find what you're looking for"

"You know Chinese curses?"

"Actually it is widely disputed whether that curse is in fact Chinese but yeah I know a few quotes. Life would be tragic were it not funny"

"Stephen Hawking, Quality is doing it right when no-one's looking"

"Henry Ford"

They smiled at each other.

"James, it will get better - you just have to keep going and wait for the world to let you catch up again."

"I don't know who said that"

"My grandfather did, after my mum passed"

"Was he right?"

"Some days I ask myself that same question but what I've found is that as long as you never lose that feeling when you think of them, as long as you never stop loving them. Well then you're doing okay"

Neal looked up again, met Sam's green eyes and felt one of the most genuine if sad smiles he had ever shared come across his face.

"What was she like?"

"My mum?" Neal nodded, "She was…understanding, blunt and wise, near the end. I felt like I could tell her anything but she wouldn't take any shit from me you know?" Sam answered with a wistful and slightly choked up voice.

"Yeah, Kate was the same. But it was like two ways with us, we just got each other. She had this uncanny ability to know when I was going to do something stupid and she would just give me this knowing look telling me to stop whatever hare-brained idea I had this time"

"I was going to build the first robot, had all of these schematics drawn up and everything."

"I was going to get my paintings in the Louvre"

"Fly to the moon"

"Steal the Crown Jewels"

"Make everything better" they said this together and shared a sad, whimsical look.

He decided to take a leap of faith, "Do you like wine? Cause, I have this lovely Sauvignon Blanc at my place."

"That sounds lovely"

Walking out of the bar he felt some of the loneliness ebb away, Neal Caffrey may be a con but James Campbell was a man who needed comfort just as much as the next guy.

~WC~

Sam was taken aback when he saw the hot guy from the hospital again in the bar that he was stuck in with his cousin's stupid fiancé and his friends. He was pleasantly surprised how nice the guy was once he got up the nerve to talk to him and he was quite amazed by how much they had in common. He was shocked when James – the Adonis no less – invited him back to his place for drinks.

But what took him completely by surprise was himself. Sam Winters that nerdy guy from the x-ray room who blushes when anybody good looking so much as looks at him made the first move. He comforted the guy who was still mourning his girlfriend. He didn't jump up and down and scream like the excited little girl he was when he was invited round to James' place. And in the cab ride over which was partaken in companionable silence he didn't start babbling about the Hubble telescope, particle accelerators or Doctor Who – impressive if you knew his track record.

Sam felt completely comfortable in James' company once they had moved past the initial awkwardness at the bar, he felt like he was meant to be here by his side. Hell, he wasn't even sure if the guy was gay or bi actually considering he had a girlfriend of 10 years but he just felt weirdly calm and collected in his presence.

However when they got out of the cab and Sam paid the driver, which he justified with the simple fact he was about to be drinking the guy's wine, his jaw hit the floor. Literally – I mean he's still got a bruise there.

"You live here?" He asked in a disjointed shock.

"Yeah, I rent out the apartment on the third floor – June is a very generous woman" James replied rather nonplussed.

Once they reached his apartment and just as Sam was brushing off the initial shock he was once again amazed by the million dollar view of the City.

"Whoa" he breathed as he took in the sparkling lights all around him feeling rather out of his depth with someone who by all appearances was way out of his league.

"You never quite get used to it" James sounded wistful.

"It's beautiful" at this Sam also looked at James in what he hoped conveyed his double meaning.

He guessed he succeeded when the seemingly unflappable guy blushed sheepishly and quickly retreated with the promise to grab them some wine. His attention was so consumed by the view that he didn't notice the inordinately long amount of time James took or his quick stop by his bookcase and then the closet or the expression of relief on his face when he returned.

Gratefully accepting the proffered wine glass and keeping his attention on the view Sam mulled over his options:

1) Run away back to his humble abode under the stairs in Brooklyn and never speak of this night again.

2) Offer to just be friends in the hopeful avoidance of the awkward I'm not gay speech

3) Turn around, grab James by the shoulders and slam him into a wall whilst snogging him.

"Kate would have loved it here" James interrupted his rather amorous daydreaming and he immediately felt guilty for having forgotten that he was still grieving.

"You weren't together here?"

"No, last time we were together was in this crappy apartment but we would get this empty Bordeaux bottle and drink cheap wine out of it. We used to pretend we were in the French Riviera." James said this while gazing out into the distance seemingly lost in the memories.

"That sounds…" He searched for the right word

"Ridiculous?"

"Touching" he clarified

"You know everyone always told me that it wouldn't work between us, that she didn't feel the same as I did."

"Did she?" He prompted after a few moments of silence

"I guess I'll never know."

There wasn't really much he could say to that but the guilty feelings intensified and twisted his gut when he felt almost glad that this woman wasn't around to play with his emotions anymore.

"Loving the idea of someone isn't the same as actually loving someone"

James seemed to do that quite a bit - randomly quote things - Sam just decided to go with it, "Love is not with the eyes but the mind, that's why cupid is painted blind."

James turned around and looked at him as though with those deep blues he could see right into him, "Shakespeare" he whispered.

This is it Sam do it! He yelled at himself.

Gently, as though approaching a wild animal, he lifted his hand to caress James' cheek. Encouraged by the slight lean into his touch he brought up his other hand and slowly moved forward until their foreheads were together.

Taking a leap of faith he moved forward as James did too and their lips met tenderly, nervously as though they were both worried the other would pull away. Just as Sam was about to move back when he noticed the stray tears rolling down his partner's cheeks James opened his mouth and whispered with such wanton yet sad desire that Sam felt he couldn't refuse, "Please".


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: sorry for the long wait for this, I am going to try to get a couple more chapters out before the new year - the last few weeks have been hectic! Anyway this is set at the beginning of point blank and a few weeks after the last chapter. P.S. I still don't own White Collar

Chapter 6:

"Peace and justice are two sides of the same coin"

Dwight D Eisenhower

Recently Peter noticed Neal had been acting weird. Not weird in a about to steal some fancy painting from a museum way but just…weird. He had been looking off into the distance as he often did nowadays and instead of his hands shaking a small smile had played across his face. And it had seemed genuine; a small, genuine and almost shy smile. At first he thought that maybe Neal was starting to look back on Kate with happiness but he still seemed angry and sad like before just with an extra layer of happiness in there. In one occurrence this wouldn't have been concerning but after almost three weeks of strangely happy smiles something had to be going on. The FBI agent had also noticed Neal seemed to be getting quite ill; this also wouldn't appear to be a big concern but in all of the years Peter had chased, arrested and worked with Neal he had never seen so much as a cold from him.

One day Neal seemed especially happy but also pale and tired. Peter hadn't mentioned anything but he was concerned, Was Neal ill? Was he depressed? and the unbidden thought that came next Was he hurting himself? That would explain the happiness paired with the sadness and the itching Neal seemed to doing on his arms. Wary not to jump to the wrong conclusions about something he had kept quiet and gone to El, she was so much better at the whole caregiver, emotions thing anyway.

"So, you're concerned about Neal because he's happy?" She had asked skeptically once he relayed the puzzling events minus his own worried ideas on Neal's mental and physical health.

"No…well, yes. I don't know." Neal had seemed sad, upset, angry - borderline depressed - since Kate's death but now for him to be so abruptly and quietly happy it was confusing.

He attempted to explain himself as he ran his hands through his hair, "El, I don't understand it the guy's been downright depressed since Kate died but he's been hiding it behind this dazzling conman grin. And now he seems like he is genuinely happy about something – I know Neal, hon and that wasn't a con"

"Ok…but I still don't get why this is worrying you – wait is it worrying you?" El had this cute little line between her eyebrows when she was puzzled by something.

"I'm not sure" he admitted with a sigh, sitting from where he had been pacing, "I just don't understand where Neal's head is right now, he could do anything at the minute he's so pissed off about Kate's death. And he seems ill honey, he's pale and tired. He looks pained when you know his tells and the other day Jones caught him throwing up in the toilets. I doubt he's taking proper care of himself - sleeping, eating." He stopped his hurried babbling as disbelieving realization dawned on him, "Oh my god El, I've turned into his father"

In reply to this El comfortingly placed her hand over his own, concealed a chuckle and gave him one of her patented _Honey I love you but sometimes you can be such an idiot _looks and said as though it were obvious, "Why don't you just ask him?"

"Honey, you are a genius!"

"I know" she said not even looking up from the blueprints for her latest gallery opening.

So this was how Peter was left awkwardly standing outside Neal's apartment a few days later debating over how to phrase, "Why are you happy?" without sounding like a jackass.

_Christ, Burke just knock already! _He quickly banged on the door before he lost his nerve; he knew it may look a little odd considering he usually just waited for Neal in the car when he picked him up but it wasn't that unusual an occurrence for him to come up to Neal's apartment, if only for June's coffee.

"One second!" he heard Neal yell through the door.

He didn't want to invade Neal's privacy even if he was technically allowed to and he didn't particularly want to walk in if Neal wasn't decent but he couldn't help if he just happened to lean into the door a fraction and overhear some things. Like fast and whispered things.

"Where are my pants?"

"Here"

"Thanks"

"Are these my socks?"

Well that explained why Neal had seemed so happy at least. He couldn't distinguish anything about the voices through the door and low tones but that was quite self-explanatory. He was so glad he hadn't just walked in.

"Can you um go in the bathroom for one minute?"

The shuffling abruptly stopped.

"What, why?" that voice sounded annoyed even with the distorted edge to it.

"No, it's not that – really. He just, he doesn't know."

There was a pause.

"Please"

Peter's eyebrows shot up, it wasn't often that Neal Caffrey resorted to manners to get what he wanted.

"Fine, I don't particularly want to meet the guy that ruined my morning anyway"

"Thank you"

"You owe me"

"I will make it up to you, I promise"

30 seconds later the door opened to a bedraggled Neal with tufts of hair sticking up all across his head and slightly kiss-swollen lips clad only in pants – the same he was wearing yesterday Peter noted. He had to fight hard to stop himself from showing just how amused by this he was and from the glare Neal shot him he wasn't entirely sure he succeeded.

"Morning Neal" he opened cheerily.

"Peter, you're early" Neal dead panned back to him, "I'll be down in a minute"

"Oh it's fine I can wait up here" He said breezily as he sauntered straight past Neal and into the apartment. He was enjoying the rare opportunity he had to make Neal uncomfortable.

"No, really it will only take one minute" Neal assured shooting quick glances at the bathroom door and his messy sheets.

"Ok, ok I'll get out of your hair" Peter gave in easily but didn't want to ruin Neal's morning now he knew the cause of it but just before he left, "Neal?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm happy for you"

Neal appeared to take pause at that and with that same gentle and genuine smile he said, "Thanks Peter" and with that he quickly slammed the door in his face.

Quietly chuckling under his breath as he descended the stairs he texted El – All's fine. In fact I think Neal might have a girlfriend P.

A couple of minutes later his phone buzzed in reply – Good for him, you should invite them over for dinner next week xx

Peter faithfully waited in the car for Neal to come down with a weird sense of pride in his stomach that Neal had found someone - Christ he really was turning into Neal's father. He managed to hold back his curiosity for a whole ten minutes before he could no longer help himself, "So uh you have a girlfriend now?"

"Something like that" Neal replied in that vague way of his.

"What's her name?"

"Why you going to run a background check?" Neal joked but when Peter just half-sheepishly looked away he said, disbelieving, "You were going to run background check." and proceeded to sulk and look out in the window in true Caffrey style when they had one of their little tiffs.

Peter hastily tried to justify himself, it honestly wasn't judgement just protective instincts, "I just wanted to check she wasn't some criminal like K- " _Oh, God, Burke what have you done?! Do you want to choke on your own foot?!_

Neal's head snapped back to Peter and his brilliant eyes shone with such intense rage Peter actually flinched away, "Don't You Even Dare." each word was enunciated in shockingly calm coldness completely uncharacteristic to the usually jovial conman and Peter was admittedly quite scared of Neal in that moment.

"I...Neal...I" Peter spluttered trying to find the words to get himself out of this hole.

"No. Just, stop." Neal stopped him with a hand up. He took a couple of deep breaths and was suddenly back to his normal self, it was quite scary seeing the machinations of his conman mask being put into place. "Don't worry Sam is not a felon or a fence or anything like that. Hell, I doubt he even knows what the difference between a blue-collar and a white-collar crime is. And I'm not going to convert the good doctor over to the dark side so don't worry about that either. In fact why don't you just let me life my life and you can live yours and we can pretend you didn't just degrade my recently deceased girlfriend of ten years to 'just some criminal'"

This was all spoken in a scary-calm voice and a blank expression speeding up as he went along and the barely contained rage began to leak out and as soon as Neal had finished his piece he returned to staring dejectedly out of the window, Peter could see his hands shaking out of the corner of his eye but chose to just keep quiet. The rest of the car journey was completed in awkward silence. Just before they got out of the car Peter heard Neal take a deep breath, exit and then he turned to say as he would any day, "So, what's the case today Butch?" with his usual sunny disposition.

Peter decided it would be best for his continued good health to let the matter of Neal's girlfriend both old and new drop not to mention the yet to be attempted topic of Neal's health. He was still undecided on whether he should tell Neal about his and Diana's work on drawing out Fowler through his wife's life insurance especially after seeing his partner's reaction to his accidental badmouthing of Kate, what would he be like if he actually came face to face with the man he held responsible for his lost love's untimely death. So for now Peter decided it would be best to pretend everything was normal and explain his interest in a new case of stolen Spanish Silver across the city. Sometimes he wondered how many conmen were really in this partnership.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: - "It is impossible to suffer without making someone pay for it" Friedrich Nietzsche

Life goes on, that's what everybody says. It was odd how true this fact presented itself when something terrible happens and yet to the rest of the world it's just a normal day. Someone was born maybe someone won the lottery, got promoted…everything stays the same. No-one truly makes an impact no matter how much we may think we are the star of our stories we are inevitably extras for everyone else. It therefore shouldn't be a surprise that when someone dies nothing really happens, yes friends and family may mourn and co-workers and acquaintances express their sympathies but in the end everything goes back to normal.

When for example someone is mourning their girlfriend and then is told they have brain cancer sometimes no-one notices. No-one notices this person is hurting, physically and emotionally, no-one notices this person has to go to hospital and have his own nurse. No-one notices anything.

Sometimes it feels like there is no point to getting out of bed and going on into the 9 to 5 existence we live in. No point in anything any more when you feel alone.

But other times you find someone who does notice and more than that they care. It isn't perfect, nothing ever is, but it's nice to know that there is someone out there who knows, who cares enough to know. Someone else who knows the nurse's names and the medications you have to take to keep the voices in your head quiet. This someone may not know everything about you – everyone has secrets – but they know the important things and they know the little things.

They know that you have nightmares that leave you screaming in the middle of the night too scared to close your eyes and have to face your demons again. They know you take your coffee with cream but no sugar. They know you have to be reminded to take your pills or eat because otherwise you'll forget until your stomach forces you to. They know your favourite food despite all of the fancy gourmet things you love is mint chocolate chip ice cream.

They know that sometimes you feel so alone in the world that you just need a shoulder to cry on and mourn how many you've lost.

And life goes on, through the good and through the bad it goes on. You just have to cling on to what you have left and hope you don't get lost along the way.

~WC~

It had been 3 weeks since Neal got the call that he knew was coming, 1 week since his first radiation treatment for the tumour pressing down on his brain. He hadn't told anyone yet, that ingrained reluctance from his youth of not letting anyone see what was wrong, of always presenting an image of perfection.

It was different with Sam. When Neal (or James) was with Sam he could release the built up tension and relax some of his many walls. While he still wouldn't be considered an open person with him he did show some of his emotions and had begun to share some of his past.

He knew he would eventually have to balance out his life with Peter and Moz and the life he was having with Sam by telling him that as far as everyone knew he was Neal Caffrey (ex-)con and hope Sam accepted this, but for now life was pretty good.

Sam had looked after him when he'd been recuperating over the weekend after his first treatment and they'd been on a few dates as well. It hadn't developed into anything serious yet with just a couple of dinners, a movie and a trip around one of the galleries in his radius but it was nice, one of the only normal relationships Neal had ever had.

Physically he was better than he had been a few short months ago when the symptoms started and the pills he had been given meant that he was no longer vomiting up everything he ate and the voices and his headaches were greatly lessened. Emotionally he was still feeling the sadness, anger and guilt of Kate's death but he was also happier than he had been in a long time.

But now he was able to finally begin to use up his tremulous emotions through faking the FBI file and getting Alex to steal the music box (again) so he would be able to draw Fowler out. All he had to do to make sure everything kept to plan was ensure that Diana didn't leave before Alex had the chance to be in and out with the box. How hard could it be?

~WC~

How do you tell a guy that you found who purchased the explosions that killed his girlfriend? As Diana left the van to work from home after a weirdly attached Neal had tried to get her to stay Peter contemplated how to break this new bit of information to his partner.

Taking a deep breath he started, "You won't admit it and you won't show it but I know how difficult these last few months have been for you." The last few years really what with being in prison and then chasing after Kate just to lose her again Peter added in his head, "I'm glad that you trusted me."

"Of course" Neal replied as though it was a simple thing and warmth blossomed in Peter's stomach.

Decision cemented he continued, "I'm returning the favour" handing over the potentially game-changing file he explained further "this is a receipt for parts used in making the bomb on Kate's plane."

"It says the buyer's name is Aaron Burgess. Who is that?" Neal was perusing the file and asking questions as he would on any other case but it was with the next point that Peter was wary of a reaction.

"It's an alias of Fowler"

Neal's head snapped up (well it rose quite quickly but for Neal that was as much of a tell as you were going to get) and a brief flash of anger shone in his eyes.

"Diana tracked his purchases and found that, made one week before the explosion."

"Fowler bought the explosives and blew up the plane" Neal surmised with the calm tone Peter recognized as concealed anger.

"You okay?" He didn't want Neal running off after Fowler half-cocked.

"Yeah" Neal answered with a not quite perfectly faked smile.

After a couple more rounds of assurances on both of their parts Peter's phone rang. Diana.

"Is Neal with you? Someone broke into my apartment. The music box is gone."

Fury boiled through him but he buried it knowing that pushing Neal was like drawing blood from a stone, "Tell me you didn't do this Neal."

"Do what? I've been here with you." Neal seamlessly proclaimed his innocence and incensed Peter more.

"The music box has been safe in Diana's apartment for months and the minute I tell you about it it disappears."

"I didn't take it" evasion – Mozzie or Alex declared his FBI instincts.

"You're not going to get away with this Neal."

"I didn't take it! Why do you _never_ trust me?"

"Because as soon as I do you or one of your friends does something like this. How am I supposed to trust you when all you ever do is break it? Trust the system Neal"

Neal laughed at that slightly hysterically, "Trust the system. You know that's rich Peter. The system that chucked me in jail with a bunch of murderers, the system that kidnapped Kate, the system that killed her. I knew you were loyal Peter but I didn't realise you were so naïve."

"Naïve? _I'm_ naïve? Kate used you like a play toy for years – playing that innocent little girl act while you were sent to rot in prison. You may have loved her Neal but what do you really know of how she felt about you?"

"How dare you!" Neal grabbed Peter and pushed him back into the surveillance van's walls with a thud, "You didn't know Kate, you judged her based on nothing. She loved me and I loved her we were going to be together but then you showed up!"

"You can't blame me for you going to prison Neal"

"I don't." Neal continued with a cold detachment "Did you listen to the plane's log Peter? Kate called Fowler, told him that you were there and then boom. Gone, because of you."

Peter grabbed Neal and swung him around until he was pinning him against the van's walls, "If I wasn't there you would be dead!"

"If you weren't there Kate would be alive!"

Something was pressing into him when he leaned in to Neal and he cut off his reply as he yanked the bottle of pills from Neal's pocket. He abruptly relinquished his hold on Neal and stepped back shocked.

The bottle didn't have a label and he shook it angrily as he demanded, "What the hell are these?"

"Peter it's they're" Neal stammered anger seemingly forgotten.

"What do you do drugs now? Oh my God. The paleness, the scratching, the tiredness." He shook his head disbelievingly as the pieces finally fell into place, "Give me your arm."

"Peter, I can explain"

"Give me your arm!" he thundered grabbing the offending limb and brutally rolling up the sleeve, vintage Devore be damned. Sure enough there on the inside of his elbow were needle marks.

"Peter it's not what you think it is"

"I don't want to hear any more of your lies. Get out Neal. And don't bother coming into the office tomorrow - you're benched."

"Peter you can't do this."

"I can do whatever the hell I want with you, now get out!"

~WC~

Neal was still fuming the next day as he went to the antiques shop he knew Mozzie was going to meet his fellow encryptor at. Peter hadn't even let him explain what his pills were for what would happen if he didn't take them. He had called his doctor but been told they couldn't get him any more until Monday and that he should get someone to stay with him. Neal Caffrey didn't need a babysitter, how could Peter do this do him!

_They need to be punished for what they've done._

Neal shook his head in a vain attempt to get rid of the voice but he knew they wouldn't go away. He increased his pace; maybe if he got to Mozzie he could get himself distracted in aiding with the decryption. People may not think him a tech guy but he had been an accomplished hacker in a different life.

Ensuring his mask was firmly in place Neal entered the eclectic shop and approached Mozzie at the counter. He filled him in on what had happened and listened to Akhiro's idea of the two part code. He had just decided to go home as he had been advised when the gun on the side caught his eye.

The voices began to speak in earnest.

_Fowler bought the explosives that blew up Kate's plane._

_He must be punished._

_Justice or revenge_

_He killed Kate._

He looked back contemplating…No. This wasn't him; he didn't resort to violence to get what he wanted. Besides he hated guns.

_You're a coward Caffrey_

_Fowler needs to be stopped_

_He killed Kate_

_Why aren't you avenging me Neal? I thought you loved me._

He grabbed the gun and left the shop. He needed to get Fowler for Kate.

~WC~

It wasn't the first time Neal had used the anklet key but it was the most significant, this was the time that it would be noticed. This was a point he couldn't turn back from.

He had only used the key two times before once on the first night he was together with Sam and he had ridden the buzz of being free all night as well as releasing his tension with Sam. It had been amazing but the next day he had felt like he had cheated in his deal with Peter.

The second time was when Sam had looked after him when he had had his radiotherapy session at the hospital that was for the whole day and June had been out of town so he had attached the anklet to Bugsy who had surprisingly taken to it charmingly. The feeling of cheating had been lessened by the after-effects of the session and the comfort of having Sam, he had felt like a normal person – like for once he wasn't Neal Caffrey the perfect conman he was just … him.

_I thought you loved me Neal_

_I thought I was the one_

His guilt over Kate's death and wanting to stay in New York increased tenfold after spending time with Sam it felt like he was cheating on her. Even though she was dead, she would always be the one that got away.

As he got out the gun and the anklet key his doubts once again surfaced, was he doing the right thing – stooping to Fowler's level of using violence to get what he wanted?

_He killed me_

_If you ever loved me you would do this_

_I'm dead because of him_

The voices hadn't stopped following him all day and he listened pushing aside the last vestiges of doubt he had – Fowler had to pay for what he had done.

~WC~

Neal walked around the Russian Heritage Museum a man on a mission having compartmentalized his feelings to pull off the con and get in as another amicable party-goer. That was until he spotted Fowler from the courtyard and all of his simmering rage boiled over.

_Murderer_

He ran through the rooms to the main marble staircase and the upper floors.

_Killer_

Turning to continue down the corridor to Fowler's hiding place he found his way blocked by Peter and some sort of security guard.

_Burke__'s here does this change the plan?_

_If you weren't there Kate would still be alive!_

Neal felt the embers of rage for his handler but it paled in comparison to the burning fury he felt for Fowler. He ran back to the top of the stairs and saw the curtains out on the balcony.

"Neal! You got nowhere to go."

_Government Pigs_

Neal felt the unrepentant smirk curve his lips as he grabbed a knife from a very poorly secured display box and went back out to the balcony.

_Beware him who is slow to anger_

_It is stronger when it comes and is longer kept_

_Abused patience turns to fury._

Slashing the bindings that kept the curtain to the rail Neal grabbed on and swung across the abyss bracing his body and crashing into Fowler's room.

Faced with the man who had murdered his beloved he felt all of his pools of anger boil up into an all-consuming rage.

_Murderer_

He fired a shot.

_Killer_

He kept his gun level at Fowler.

_He killed me, Neal_

"Tell me why you killed Kate!"

_Gone forever_

"You blew up the plane to get rid of us!"

_All alone with a broken brain_

"What was in it for you?"

_Tick Tock Tick Tock_

_6 months tops if treatment doesn't work_

_Tick Tock Tick Tock_

He was distantly aware of Peter entering the room

_You can be a con or a man you can't be both_

_Tick Tock Tick Tock_

"What do you know? Tell me what you know!" His words were tighter now tinged with pain.

_Conmen only get their hearts broken once _

"You want to kill me Neal? Go ahead and pull the trigger."

_Always give yourself the advantage son_

He moved toward Peter as though he were going to give himself up.

_Keep all the cards close to your chest, up your sleeve._

_He killed me._

_Murderer_

And in one movement he turned, grabbed Fowler and held his gun to the agent's temple.

"Neal this isn't you."

_He needs to feel my pain_

"I want him to know how it felt. How she felt."

"You're not a killer"

_Neal__ Caffrey__ master conman can be whoever he pleases when he pleases._

"Look at me Neal"

_Who is your medical proxy?_

_Do you need to call family?_

_All alone without an anchor in your storm_

"Neal look at me, come on"

_Daddy's little boy scared of a gun_

_Couldn't even save his own mother_

_Coward_

_Weakling_

His hands shook with the pain reverberating through his head.

_Find the one who pulled the trigger not the gun_

_Look for justice not revenge_

_Find my killer, show them my pain_

He reluctantly gave Peter the gun, not meeting his eyes.

"Cuff him."

As Fowler turned around with a gut-churning smirk on his face, Neal swung his arm back and punched him in the face.

_Feel my pain_

_Coward_

_Weakling_

_Arrogant Bastard_

As Neal was brought none too gently to Diana's car he couldn't bring himself to feel any guilt about his actions and he absently wondered if he would have if he had killed Fowler.

Diana looked at him with begrudging approval it seemed for what he had done. When they got into her car she undid the cuffs and put him in the passenger seat. He reached up his shaking hands and held his head. After vomiting 3 times on the journey Diana decided to take him home and told him to stay there or he would be back in Sing-Sing by dinner.

_Worthless coward couldn't protect his queen_

_You always were a coward weren't you Caffrey?_

_Don't have the balls to do what was necessary_

He got up on shaky legs and somehow managed to make it up to his apartment with the maid's help. Slumping at the dining table his vision shone white, blurred out at the edges and finally went black.

~WC~

Neal woke up to what felt like a head full of cotton wool and a detached air as though he were not truly partaking in what he was doing. He grabbed the bullets from the gun he had almost used earlier and began to line them up.

_You are a failure kid and that's all you'll ever be_

_Hero? You couldn't save your own mother._

_I'll teach you how to be a man you little smartass!_

His hands were shaking and there was water running down his face; I'm crying he realised. He brought his head to his hands and felt an explosion of pain so intense he swung out and knocked all of the table's contents to the floor.

Wine, I need wine he decided wobbling over to the kitchenette to pour himself a glass. He drunk half of it in one go …

_How could you? I'm dead_

_Coward_

_You didn't avenge me_

_Weakling_

_You are nothing but a useless COWARD!_

and sent the rest smashing against the wall leaving the red liquid to run down it like a bloody waterfall.

Images started flashing before his eyes intermittently with the voices

_Fire licked around his arms and burnt up his small back as he crawled around the belly of the oven screaming hoarsely, "Mum! Mum!" He had to find her, it was his fault._

_You're worthless._

_A shiv thrust into the newest inmate's jumpsuit and ruby red drops sinking out into a puddle on the floor._

_Coward_

_A belt and a handgun coming into view as he laid on his side in his new room and fear curling deep within his belly._

_You should be dead!_

The images faded as he paced around the apartment willing the voices to stop not noticing the gashes on his arms from the glass or the gunpowder across his face from the bullets or the brunette that had just entered

_Coward_

"Shut up" he muttered under his breath clawing at his head.

_You are worthless_

"Shut up" he said louder now scraping at his scalp to try and stop the words.

_WHY AREN'T YOU DEAD?_

"Shut up!" he finally yelled collapsing to his knees amongst the mess he had clutching his splitting head.

A blurry face rushed into view in front of him with long dark hair and prominent cheekbones, "Kate"

"I'm so sorry" he moaned, words slurring together, to her, "I should have died you were perfect. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry…"

Continuing his pleas in hopes of her forgiveness he felt hands clutch around his arms as heaves started up his stomach and worked up his body, pushing her aside he curled in on himself and added to the mess on the floor.

Another red puddle, the liquid crawling down his chin.

Light and dark flashed in and out as he body jerked wildly on the floor as though the inside were trying to get out and the puddle grew.

Flashes of explosions and fiery darkness and, "Kate" before everything went black once more.


End file.
